# Buried Secrets

Margaret Daley

Hidden treasure? Fresh from her grandfather's funeral, Maggie Somers was shocked to find his home–all she had left of him–ransacked. What wasn't so shocking was that a Collier stood among the wreckage. Maggie had grown up hearing all about the Collier clan–liars and thieves who couldn't be trusted. Yet Zach Collier asked Maggie to have faith in him, to put their feud and their families' to rest.His grandfather had also recently passed away. Zach was sure the man–like Maggie's grandfather–had been murdered for something hidden among his possessions. Something Zach and Maggie had to uncover before they became targets.

## Buried Secrets. Margaret Daley


To Laura, who enjoys adventures as I do

## Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

## ONE

“Move and you’re dead.” Maggie Somers lifted the .22 higher, trying desperately to keep her hands from shaking. “I have a gun pointed at you.”

The large man straightened, his back to her, rigid. “I had nothing to do with this.” A piece of paper in his hand fluttered to the floor.

As her gaze swept the living room of her grandfather’s ranch house, alarm snaked down her spine. Everything’s destroyed. Tears stung her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back. There was no way this man was going to see any kind of weakness.

The intruder started to turn toward her.

“Don’t move an inch.” Her anger pushed aside her fear as she gripped the rifle tighter and placed her finger on the trigger.

“May I turn around and explain why I’m here?”

A steel thread weaved through his words, striking against her raw nerves. “Save your breath for the sheriff.”

“Look, lady, this is ridiculous.” Exasperation now edged his deep, husky voice.

Maggie stepped over the broken pieces of the Indian pottery that had sat on a table near the door, and moved farther into the room. The crunch beneath her shoes told her that more than the one priceless vessel from her grandfather’s collection was shattered. Like alcohol in a festering wound, the sound toughened her resolve.

If only her cell worked out here on the ranch, she would have already called the sheriff and he’d be halfway here by now. She glanced at the phone across the room, then at the burglar—dressed in a black turtleneck and black jeans—and knew she had to do something with him before making the 9-1-1 call. If she let down her guard for a second, the man could easily overpower her.

“Pick up the extension cord near your feet. Slowly.” She roughened her voice as much as possible, but to her own ears she sounded shaky.

The intruder remained still.

Her arm ached from holding the rifle to her shoulder. “Let me tell you something about myself. I’m an expert shot, and two of the things I hate in this world are liars and thieves. You’re batting a hundred.”

“Where do you want me?” His movements as he bent over and snatched up the cord conveyed his anger more than his words.

Anywhere but here. She searched her memory, trying to determine how this was done in the movies. “Sit in that rocking chair and tie your feet together.”

He walked to it and stopped. “May I turn around now, or do you want me to sit in it backward?” Sarcasm sliced through his question.

“Slowly. Any sudden moves and I might get trigger-happy.” She was sure she’d heard that in some cop movie.

“Will that make your day?”

He slowly faced her. His gaze locked with hers. The penetrating intensity in his stare unnerved her. As his slate-gray eyes—as cold as a tombstone—assessed her, she had the horrible thought that if he wanted, he could probably disarm her before she got a shot off. This man exuded danger. Why had she decided to come inside? Her heartbeat caught for a second, then battered against her chest. Why hadn’t she run when she’d had the chance?

Because she had been so furious that someone had dared to defile her grandfather’s memory on the day she had buried him that she hadn’t been thinking straight.

She motioned with the rifle. “Sit.”

The wooden rocking chair creaked as the intruder lowered himself into it. When he dropped his gaze from hers, she released a long sigh while he tied his ankles together with the cord Maggie had kicked to him.

Rugged features set in harsh lines greeted her perusal. Dark brown hair with touches of fire brushed his nape. His full lips and high cheekbones added to his commanding presence. Over six feet tall, lean and muscular, his frame reinforced that impression of lethal force.

“Does this meet with your approval?”

His insolent question drew her gaze back to his face. His voice held a steely quality that matched his look, as though he had stared down the barrel of a rifle before, and survived.

Fear tingled up her spine. She refused to answer him, but instead found another length of cord and walked a wide circle around the chair to stand behind it. Once he was tied up, she would be all right. “Give me your hands.”

He complied. She quickly cradled the rifle between her legs, then looped the cord from the blinds around his wrists. The feel of his flesh against her fingers jolted her. For a long second she fumbled with the rope, almost dropping it. Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, she hastened to finish the job, blocking from her mind the warmth of his skin against hers. Relief trembled through her as she grasped the .22 and backed away.

With her eyes cast downward, she knelt in front of him and checked the cord about his ankles. She felt the drill of his stare and fought the urge to quail. As she rose, her gaze finally trekked upward. The rage she saw in his expression took her breath away. This man wasn’t accustomed to being subdued by anyone. She hurriedly moved toward the phone and picked it up.

“Do you seriously think I look like a thief? Would a thief drive a sports car like the one out front?” he asked after she made the call to the sheriff.

“You probably stole that, too.”

“C’mon, lady. I did not have anything to do with this. I came here—”

“Oh,” she said, cutting him off, “then you just make a habit of stopping by houses that have been ransacked to have a look around? Were you looking for some garage sale and made a wrong turn? Or perhaps you’re an insurance adjuster getting a jump on the job?”

“No, I came to talk to you,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Before or after you robbed me?” Her anger held her firmly now that he was tied up. She sat on the coffee table and laid the rifle across her lap. She settled one hand on her knee, the other on the .22, so she’d be prepared if the intruder tried anything.

“I came in after the fact. I did not rob you.” Each word was spoken slowly, distinctly, as though he were talking to a child who didn’t understand.

“That’s what all the criminals say. I think you need to work on your delivery if you’re going to get a jury to believe you.” She raked her gaze down him, hoping to convey her contempt. “It lacks conviction.”

He didn’t say another word. His eyes said it all, boring into her with a ferocity that warned her never to be alone with this man.

As she waited for the sheriff, she drummed her fingers on her knee and tried to avoid looking at his eyes, and at the chaos about her. Which was very hard to do, especially the pottery that Gramps had found, each piece smashed beyond repair. She wasn’t ready to deal with the mess. One crisis at a time. As a doctor, that was how she handled a medical emergency. That was how she would handle this, too.

Minutes stretched into fifteen, the tension-laden silence gnawing away at her fragile composure. The occasional times she caught the intruder’s glare she felt as though she were a specimen under a microscope—pinned to the paper, unable to move, laid bare for examination. The feeling left her extremely uneasy.

“You’re pretty isolated out here. It’ll take the sheriff a while to ride to your rescue.” His sarcasm broke the stillness.

“Is that why you picked this place? Its isolation?”

“I picked it because it’s Jake Somers’s ranch.”

“You scum!” She shot to her feet, the .22 clutched in her hands. “You read about his funeral today and came here to rob the place while everyone was gone.” She brought the weapon to her shoulder, chambering a bullet. She wanted this man to squirm for what he had done to her grandfather’s memory, to his prized possessions, which he’d lovingly collected over the years.

Several heartbeats passed; Maggie stared into the man’s cold eyes.

“It’s true. I did read this morning about Jake’s death and the funeral, but—”

“Shut up! Not another word.”

Icy silence pervaded the room, heightening the strain even more.

Finally the sound of car doors slamming closed pulled her attention from the stranger. She lowered the rifle. The sheriff and one of his deputies entered the house and scanned the damage.

“Hello, Maggie. I see you’ve had some trouble.” The sheriff pushed his hat up on his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Tom. I caught this man going through my grandfather’s things.”

Tom’s regard swung to the man in the rocking chair. “You did, did you? Is the whole house like this?” The sheriff gestured at the wreckage.

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to check.”

“Why don’t you and Rob do a walk-through? Then he can take your statement while I take care of this stranger. We’ll have him out of your hair in no time.”

Glad to be out of the intruder’s line of vision, Maggie led the way, with the deputy following. After checking the two bedrooms and finding everything in disarray, she headed for the kitchen, her grandfather’s favorite room. When she saw the extent of the wreckage, she shuddered. Every drawer was dumped, each cabinet emptied, many dishes smashed. Food was scattered about, as boxes and containers had been ripped apart.

“Dr. Somers, can you tell if anything is missing?” While the deputy began inspecting the area, he withdrew his pad and pen from the front left pocket of his tan shirt.

Maggie pivoted, her gaze taking in the chaos about her, but her mind refusing to register the robbery’s total impact. “I don’t know. I probably won’t know that for days, at the very least. Gramps didn’t have a lot of valuable things, except for some Indian artifacts he’d collected. They were destroyed.” She waved her hand toward the living room, remembering the shattered pottery underfoot. “This land was about it.”

“Tell me what happened when you came to the ranch.”

“When I pulled up, I saw the door wide-open and that sports car out front. I knew something was wrong. I know I shouldn’t have come inside. But I was so angry. I got Gramps’s .22 from his pickup and decided to see what was going on. All I wanted to do was catch the thief.”

“You could have been hurt.”

“I’d just buried my grandfather and someone was trying to steal his things. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Besides, Gramps taught me how to shoot, to take care of myself.”

“You said you found that man going through your grandfather’s belongings. Is that right?”

Remembering back to the first few seconds when she had seen the intruder in the living room made her breath come up short. She took several deep inhalations to fill her oxygen-deprived lungs. “When I came into the house, he was standing by a table, looking at the contents of a drawer piled on top of it. He held a piece of paper, which he dropped when he heard me.”

“We’ll take him to the station and sort through this mess. I’ll give you a few days to see what’s missing. You’ll need to file it with us for insurance purposes, but I suspect there’s nothing missing, since you interrupted the man.”

“Probably not, but the damage has been done.” She waved her arm at the disarray.

Maggie trailed after the deputy into the living room. The sheriff had the intruder handcuffed and was reading him his rights. She took great pleasure in watching the scene. She hoped they threw the book at the thief for trying to rob a dead man.

When Tom asked the stranger if he understood his rights, the man looked straight at her. “Yes, I understand perfectly.”

“Where are your keys?” the sheriff asked the man.

“In my front right pocket.”

“My deputy will follow us to the station in your car,” Tom said, retrieving the keys from the trespasser, “and we’ll check out your story.”

The intruder’s stare knifed through Maggie like an Arctic gale. Shivering, she spun away as the officers led the thief outside.

When the cars left, Maggie picked up the rifle and walked outside. She placed the .22 on the gun rack in her grandfather’s black truck, near the barn where she had parked her Mustang so that whoever was in the house wouldn’t hear her arrival. Yes, she’d known how to shoot since she was a young girl, but as a doctor she’d seen what people could do with a gun and she hadn’t picked one up in years.

After slamming the truck door shut and locking it, she stood and let the silence enfold her in its comforting embrace. For days people had surrounded her, giving her no time to think, to feel.

Now she was finally alone.

She leaned against the pickup and stared at a mesa in the distance. Stark, sharp lines jutted upward toward the sky. Sunlight glittered off the red-and-white surfaces of the rock. In this land of harsh beauty, the mesa stood alone, like her. Suddenly, with all that had happened in the past hour, she couldn’t handle the solitude she had sought so desperately after the funeral. The quiet screamed at her, declaring to the world just how defenseless she was, miles from Santa Fe, alone, with only the wind’s whisper and the occasional rustle of an animal scurrying across the yard.

She peered at the dirt road leading to the highway, at the remains of the dust kicked up by the cars settling back into place, as if nothing had happened. Alone, until someone intruded, she thought. Why? What did Gramps have that the creep would want?

Most likely nothing was gone. Anything the intruder had taken would have been on his person or in his car, and the sheriff would recover that. Unless someone else had been with him and had already left. The scope of the destruction was vast, almost too much for one man. She would never know if something was missing unless she went inside and started the laborious task of straightening up.

Shoving away from the truck, she scanned the ranch. Mine now. The feelings she’d held at bay for three days inundated her all at once. Anger, bereavement and a bone-weary tiredness flooded her and made her steps leaden as she trudged toward the house.

On the porch she paused, not wanting to go back to the chaotic mess in the house that had once been so neat and orderly. She whirled around and stared off into the distance, at the top of the mesa near the highway. She watched a lone hawk circle, looking for its prey. Then suddenly the bird swooped down for the kill. Maggie closed her eyes. She couldn’t take seeing the hawk rise triumphantly with its catch in its talons. That man today had made her feel like helpless prey, vulnerable, afraid and not in control. She’d struggled never to feel those emotions again.

“What am I going to do, Gramps?” she whispered, needing to hear the sound of her own voice. With his death, she had no family left. She was as alone as that bird’s quarry. As alone as that time…No, she wouldn’t think about the past.

A dull throb began to pound behind her eyes. She massaged her temples, putting off for a few more seconds what she knew must be done.

When she went inside, the raw impact of the destruction hit her all over again. Everything she loved and cared about was strewn and ripped apart before her. Drawers were emptied, their contents flung all around. The cushions on the chairs and couch were sliced open to reveal the stuffing. Cherished photos were tossed on the floor, the glass from the frames shattered.

In the midst of the disarray, pages of the old family Bible, torn and crumpled, lay scattered about the room. She might be angry with the Lord for taking yet another loved one, but the sight ripped through what composure she had left. What kind of monster could do that to the Bible?

A picture of the intruder invaded her thoughts and iced her blood. Tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks. Her grandfather’s possessions were her last link to him. All destroyed! Bewildered, she took a few more steps into the middle of the living room. Slowly she turned in a full circle, feeling as though she were in a dream, none of this real.

But it was very real.

She bent down and found the Bible partially hidden beneath the couch. She sank down onto the coffee table and fingered the black leather of the book, which was missing most of its pages. Her grandfather had treasured this above all, and it was beyond repair. It had been in her family for almost a hundred years. Through the sheen of tears she tried to gather the crushed pages into a pile. Her vision blurred, she blinked several times. The tears flowed even more. She gave up and allowed them to fall.

Finally, when she had no tears left to shed, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and started once again to pick up the pages of Gramps’s beloved Bible. Once she had collected all of them, she moved to the contents of the drawer covering part of the coffee table and tried to bring some kind of order to it. Then she went to another disheveled pile and did the same.

Evening shadows crept into the room, forcing Maggie to switch on a light. Still she labored, determined to make the living room look like it had when she had left for the funeral that morning. No one was going to come into her life and totally disrupt it as that man had earlier. She’d had too much of that in the past. She wasn’t going to allow it. She’d finally managed to have some control over her life, and she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

After hours of working nonstop, Maggie rose and stretched her cramped, aching muscles. The pounding in her head had subsided to a dull throb, but her eyes felt heavy, gritty. She glanced at the mess still about her. It wasn’t going anywhere, and she needed coffee.

In the kitchen, she waited at the sink for the brew to percolate, staring out the window at the darkness. The feeling of total isolation swamped her again, suddenly making her quake in the warm night air. The lock on the front door was flimsy, obviously not a good deterrent. She should leave and return some other day with several friends to help her, to keep her company, she thought to herself.

She would only stay a little longer.

The scent of coffee infused the night, temporarily reviving her spent body. Reviving her soul was a lost cause.

She poured herself a cup, took a few sips and started for the living room. She would finish the cabinet and then call it quits. As she reentered, the phone’s jarring ring startled her, and she nearly dropped her mug.

Hurrying to answer the call, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Maggie, this is Tom. Just wanted to tell you we let the man go.”

Her grip tightened. “Why?”

“Because his story checked out. He’s a respected professor at Albuquerque City College. He had an alibi for most of the day, except the time it would have taken him to drive to the ranch. There’s no way he could have been there long enough to do the kind of damage I saw.”

“Who is he?”

“Dr. Zach Collier.”

The man’s name renewed her seething emotions. “I want him arrested for trespassing, then.”

“Now, Maggie, I know you’re upset about what happened, but the man only came inside because he thought you were there and in danger.”

“A Collier would never feel that way about a Somers. He’s lying.” Ever since she could remember, she had heard that from her grandfather, and after what Red Collier had done to Gramps, she believed him.

“Sleep on it. If you still feel that way tomorrow, come see me. Go home, Maggie.”

After hanging up, she lifted her mug to her lips and drank. The brew flowed down her throat, warming her cold insides. The sheriff might believe Zach Collier didn’t have anything to do with this destruction, but she didn’t. Somehow he was behind it. First thing tomorrow morning, she would be at the sheriff station, demanding Tom file trespassing charges against the man.

The sound of a car approaching the house diverted her attention toward the front door. For a second she thought of calling the sheriff back, but it would take twenty minutes for him to get to the ranch. Besides, it could be any number of Gramps’s friends.

Maggie hurried across the room. Flipping on an outside light, she stepped out onto the porch and saw a red sports car come to a stop. She flew back inside and rushed to the mantel, where Gramps kept his shotgun. With no time to call the sheriff, she grabbed it as she heard a car door slam closed.

Back out on the porch, she lifted the shotgun and said, “Come any closer and I’ll shoot you.”

## TWO

Zach unfolded his long body from his Corvette and stood, wondering why in the world he was back out at Jake Somers’s ranch. Fool. He’d called himself that several times as he’d driven to the scene of his earlier humiliation. And now, seeing Maggie Somers pointing a shotgun at him, he berated himself for not listening to that little voice inside him.

But she was in danger, and he couldn’t walk away and live with himself. Father, protect me and help me make her see the truth.

“Put the gun down. We need to talk.” He schooled his voice in a calm cadence, hoping to soothe her. He had to believe that a doctor wouldn’t take his life, even if there was a long-running feud between their families.

“I have nothing to say to a Collier. Get off my land.”

“You’re in danger.”

“You think?” She moved to the top of the steps, the shotgun still leveled at his chest.

“And I’m not the cause of it. I came here to warn you.”

She laughed, a humorless sound that filled the quiet. “Do I have stupid written on my forehead? Why do you think I would believe you?”

“Because your grandfather was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Maggie stiffened, the shotgun wavering, dropping slightly from her shoulder. “My grandfather died in a riding accident. The sheriff didn’t find any foul play.”

“I believe it was murder because my grandfather died under similar circumstances recently.”

She again secured the weapon firmly at her shoulder. “I’ve listened. Consider me warned. You’ve done your good deed for the day. Now, leave.”

Father, give me the right words to say to this woman. “I’m not my grandfather. The feud was between them, not us.”

“You’re a Collier. That’s all I need to know.”

“Three weeks ago my grandfather died in a rehabilitation center. His death didn’t raise any questions because he had a stroke. But his room at the center was searched. At first I didn’t think too much about it, thinking an employee had been rummaging through his things. Then, while I was at the funeral, someone ransacked his house, too, and stole something of great value to my grandfather. Now I’m not so sure he died from natural causes, but he was cremated, so an autopsy can’t be performed. I don’t like coincidences. This is too similar to what happened at my granddad’s house.”

The throbbing in Maggie’s head returned with an intensity that left her reeling. She needed twenty-four hours of sleep. She needed to be alone, safe. She needed to be in control. “There’s no connection between your grandfather and mine. Yours took care of that almost sixty years ago.” Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. Arms aching, she lowered the shotgun but kept a tight grip on it.

“The diary is the connection.”

His words brought her up straight. “Father Santiago’s diary? But my grandfather could never find anything. He had decided it was a legend after all.”

“He only had half the information.”

Fury chased away her weariness. “Only because your grandfather stole the map from him. Do you know why my grandfather kept the diary instead of donating it to a museum? It reminded him of a man’s potential for evil—one particular man’s potential.”

Zach Collier took several steps closer, charging the air with his power. “There’s always two sides to an issue.”

“Issue! A man’s betrayal isn’t an issue. Leave now, Dr. Collier.” Contempt laced her voice.

“Think about what I said. You’re in danger, especially if the person who did this didn’t find the diary. When you come to your senses, you can reach me at Albuquerque City College. I have an office there in the science building. But don’t wait too long. I’m leaving soon on an expedition.”

Maggie didn’t say anything as he left, the tension in the air evaporating as quickly as water in the desert. Her legs weak, her pulse pounding, she sank down on the top step. As she struggled to bring some kind of order to her thoughts, she scanned the terrain, inky darkness surrounding her. She couldn’t stay another moment. She had to leave.

She quickly reentered the house, turned off the lights and locked up—not that it had done much good earlier. Stepping out onto the porch again, she inhaled deeply, the fresh air calming her frayed emotions. The man’s theory of murder unnerved her more than the break-in. Zach Collier had obviously set out to frighten her, and for a little while she had allowed him to. Well, not anymore. She headed for her white Mustang.

She inserted a classical CD into the slot and turned up the volume. The music of Tchaikovsky filled the car. She emptied her mind of all but the music and the road stretching ahead of her.

Until she reached the outskirts of Santa Fe, Maggie didn’t think much about the car behind her on the highway. But in town, every turn she made, the vehicle behind her did, too. She switched off the CD player and sat up, alert, tense. She was being followed.

Who was it? Collier?

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator. The car behind her increased its speed, too. In the dark she tried to see if it was Zach Collier in his red sports car, but all she saw were the headlights glaring brightly, obliterating her view. She wouldn’t put it past that man to try to intimidate her further. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she thought of him behind her, intentionally trying to frighten her.

Maggie neared an intersection and at the last second swerved across two lanes of traffic to turn down a side street. When she chanced a glance in the rearview mirror, she noticed the car following her had copied her actions.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. I can’t go home. I won’t lead whoever is behind me to my house. I need people.

An idea took root in her mind. She headed for the hospital she worked at. Parking at the emergency entrance, she hopped out of her Mustang and ran into the building, glancing over her shoulder. She glimpsed several cars coming into the parking lot—none red Corvettes.

“Al, will you be a dear and park my car in the doctors’ parking lot?” she asked an orderly when she saw him in the hall.

“Sure, Dr. Somers.”

“Thanks.” She flipped her keys to him as she hurried down the hallway, the swish of the automatic doors to the emergency room sounding as they opened. “Just put the keys in my mailbox when you’ve got a chance.”

She again looked back, but all she saw were a mother and her son coming into the hospital. Was the person still outside waiting for her to leave? Was it Zach Collier? Had she imagined being followed?

The bustle of people comforted her as she made her way to a doctors’ lounge on the second floor. She crossed to the window overlooking the main parking lot, to inch open the blind’s slats. She searched the rows of vehicles. Still no red sports car. But there were other places for someone to sit and wait for her to emerge from the hospital, especially now that the person had been alerted to the fact that Maggie knew she was being followed.

She snatched up the phone and ordered a cab to pick her up at the service entrance in fifteen minutes. Pacing the room, she kept glancing at the window as though that would produce the car that had been behind her since she left the ranch. She hoped that if it was Zach Collier he would sit in his Corvette for hours waiting for her to come back outside. Too bad it wasn’t freezing. And if it wasn’t him—She wouldn’t think about that. It had to be him. He had to be wrong about her grandfather being murdered.

Ten minutes later, she eased open the door to the doctors’ lounge and checked the hallway. Two nurses stood at a counter at the end, and the elevator opened to reveal an older couple getting off. She hurried toward the elevator and slipped inside, punching the button for the basement level, where the service entrance was. Her heart hammered a maddening beat. She took several deep breaths to slow its pace.

She was letting a Collier’s fantastical ravings get her all worked up. Lord, why are You doing this to me? Wasn’t it enough You took Gramps?

When the elevator reached the lower floor, Maggie peered up and down the hallway. Empty. Where was everyone? Home, where she should be. She realized most of the labs and offices were on this level and that the majority of the people were gone by now.

She stepped out, and the doors swished closed. The click of her heels echoed down the long corridor as she walked toward the exit. The hairs on her nape tingled. She quickened her pace and peered back several times. Nothing. Yet.

Reaching the service door, she pushed it open and surveyed the area. Again, nothing. Lights from a car swept through the darkness and blended with the security lights. She squinted and made out the lines of a cab. It came to a stop ten feet away. She rushed toward it.

Slipping inside, she gave the driver her address, then slid down in the backseat so she wasn’t visible to someone on the street. Several blocks away from the hospital, she inched up and glanced around. The empty street calmed the frantic beating of her heart, and she inhaled enough air to fill her lungs.

Leaning back against the cushion, she closed her eyes, and immediately the image of Zach Collier materialized in her thoughts. She shivered. Never in her life had she had a day like this one. She tried to get a handle on all that had happened, but her exhausted mind refused to think beyond one thought: she could be in danger.

When the taxi pulled up outside her house, she scanned the street, searching for anything unfamiliar. She felt as though she were in the middle of a spy story, caught up in the intrigue. She paid the driver, then walked quickly toward her front door. After fumbling around in her purse, she withdrew her key and inserted it into the lock.

A dog barked next door.

She jumped, her purse slipping from her grasp. Her nerves raw, she snatched up the large leather bag and threw a quick look over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to rush up the sidewalk or leap out from the bushes by the porch.

A sigh trembled past her lips. Empty. She hurriedly entered her house, immediately flipping on a light. The bright glow killed the darkness, and she sank back against the closed front door, her body quaking. When she peered into the living room off to the right, half expecting to see a chaotic mess, she slid to the tile floor. Relief mingling with exhaustion swept through her. Everything was in perfect order, as neat and tidy as always.

She should get some rest—put this whole day behind her—but the blur of the past few hours numbed her. She clasped her legs and lay her head on her knees. This time she didn’t close her eyes, and yet she pictured Zach Collier as though he stood in her entryway, as arrogant and audacious as earlier.

What if he was right, and someone had killed Gramps? What if he hadn’t been the person behind her on the highway? What if Gramps’s killer had been tailing her into town, watching her at the ranch? Maggie sat up straight. She realized in that moment that she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew the truth about his death. And the place to start was the diary.

She shoved to her feet and headed for her bedroom, the first room she’d put in order when she’d moved in a few weeks ago. She spent most of her time in it. When she entered, she bypassed her king-sized, four-poster bed and headed for the armoire. She opened the bottom drawer. An old black book, protected in a temperature-and humidity-controlled case, lay nestled among her sweaters. Her hands quivered as she carefully lifted it out.

Had Gramps died for this?

She opened the case. Cautiously, because the aged pages were fragile, she perused the diary, written by a Spanish monk during the sixteenth century. His handwriting was bold and daring. She’d often thought the man must have been like his handwriting, if what he had written about his journey was true. Had he really found evidence of a lost group of Aztecs who had settled in the southwestern part of the United States? Had they carried with them some of the codices that experts thought had been destroyed by the Spanish conquerors? Could the diary and map really lead to where the codices were hidden? Or was it all a legend, as Gramps had come to believe in the end?

She settled onto her bed, carefully laying the diary, still in its case, in her lap. Her grandfather had given it to her on her thirtieth birthday, two years before, because she had always loved hearing about it. The diary had been one of his most prized possessions, yet he had parted with it because of his love for Maggie. If he had been murdered, she had to find the person responsible and make sure he paid for it. And if that meant working with Zach Collier, then she would—just as soon as she checked out his story about his grandfather’s death.

## THREE

Maggie stared at the Indian pottery—from various nearby pueblos in a cabinet in the lobby of the science building at Albuquerque City College. The brown, white and black geometric lines blurred as her thoughts became a tangle of possibilities. The receptionist had told her Dr. Zach Collier wasn’t expected on campus because he didn’t have any classes that day, which seemed strange in light of what he had told her the night before.

The young woman must have surmised that the disappointment in Maggie’s expression was due to the fact she wouldn’t get to bask in the man’s presence. Shortly afterward, the receptionist had begun telling Maggie how popular Dr. Collier was with the students. His classes were in demand and filled within one hour of registration.

She should have called ahead to see if he would be here, but she hadn’t wanted to alert him to her coming. What a waste! She’d even arranged for another doctor to take her patients this afternoon.

After loitering in the lobby for thirty minutes and still undecided as to what to do, Maggie returned to the reeptionist’s desk to see if she could persuade the woman to give her Dr. Collier’s home phone number. Five minutes into all the reasons Maggie needed to get hold of him, a dreamy look appeared on the woman’s face, and Maggie wondered if the young lady would swoon in her chair from just talking about the man.

A tingle pricked Maggie’s nape. She rotated slowly and found Zach Collier striding toward her. His body conveyed a leashed energy ready at a second’s notice to explode into action. The man before her had a manner and confidence about him that couldn’t be feigned.

He paused at the desk. “Good afternoon, Kim.”

The receptionist smiled. “I was just telling this woman you wouldn’t be in today.”

“A change in plans. We’ll be in my office, but I’d prefer my presence here be kept a secret.”

Surprise flitted across Kim’s face as her gaze swung from Dr. Collier to Maggie. “Sure.”

Zach indicated for Maggie to go first toward a hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. “My office is the third one on the right.”

Maggie made her way to the door and stopped. Okay, so everyone at the college thought the world of Dr. Zach Collier. That didn’t mean he wasn’t behind whatever was going on—and she still wasn’t sure what that was. She needed to be cautious. After years of conditioning by Gramps, she wouldn’t easily trust anyone with the last name Collier, no matter how persuasive he could be or how popular he was with his students and the college staff.

He unlocked his door and waved her inside. “I must say I wasn’t expecting a change of heart this fast, but I’m glad you want to work with me.”

Maggie froze a few feet into the office, then pivoted toward the man. “Work with you? I never said I was going to do that.” The very idea still didn’t sit well with her, even though logically she knew she should work with him if she wanted to find out what was going on.

“Then why are you here?”

The sound of the door clicking closed shimmied down her. “You know, that is a good question.”

He arched a brow. “And? Are you going to answer it?”

“No.” Because she didn’t have an answer. Why was she here? In the light of a new day she wondered if what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago was all a dream. The one thing she did know was that her grandfather would be furious if he knew she was talking with the enemy.

“So you aren’t convinced that Jake Somers was murdered?”

“Gramps’s horse got spooked, and it threw him. That wasn’t the first time he had fallen from one. This time he hit his head on a rock.” As she stated the facts told to her by the sheriff, she tried to distance herself from the situation, but she couldn’t shake the vision of Gramps lying at the top of the mesa for half a day until his body had been discovered by a ranch hand, who had found her grandfather’s horse riderless near the barn.

“Accidents can be faked. How do you explain your grandfather’s house being ransacked yesterday, like my grandfather’s was?”

“Everyone knew about Gramps’s funeral.” Of course, those people were his friends and neighbors, whom she couldn’t imagine robbing him. So the possibility that Zach Collier might be right had taken root in her mind while she had tossed and turned in her bed. Finally at five in the morning she’d given up the pretense of sleeping, and had done some research concerning Zach Collier on the Internet. She’d read about his grandfather’s death and about Zach’s disappearance the year before in the Amazon. Everyone had thought he was dead until his sister, Kate, had found him living with a tribe of Indians in a remote part of the jungle.

Zach went behind his desk and sat. “Was anything taken?”

“I don’t know. I still have a lot to clean up.” She lowered herself onto a chair nearby, and although a desk separated them, the room was too small, too intimate with its wall-to-wall bookcases filled with Indian artifacts interspersed among scientific volumes, mostly dealing with chemistry and biology. She felt enclosed in a tomb, drawn toward this man against her better judgment.

“I noticed the television was still there. His guns. Those are items a robber would steal.”

“True.” And Gramps’s prized Indian collection had been trashed, not stolen. “Maybe you scared them away.” She was grasping at straws, but she just wasn’t ready to admit to the possibility her grandfather had been murdered. The implication shook her very foundation.

“So you don’t think my theory holds up?” He tapped his fingers against the padded arm of his chair.

“I didn’t say that. I’m here to listen. I owe that much to Gramps.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly dinnertime. Let’s go someplace and eat. I talk better on a full stomach.”

“So like a man to say that,” she muttered as she rose.

He chuckled. “So much of my life has been spent in primitive surroundings searching for the next wonder drug, that when I can I indulge in the finer things in life, like good food.”

“I read in the newspaper last year about your company’s troubles.”

His eyes widened. “You read about a Collier?”

“I like to be informed about the family enemy. Actually, Gramps took great pleasure in showing me the article. You lost the company?”

He shrugged. “One of my partners was dealing in illegal drugs. By the time the dust settled the company was in shambles.”

“So you came here?” Maggie gestured around her.

“My grandfather needed me. I came to be close to him and do something different with my life. I’ve discovered I enjoy teaching, as well as researching. Here I get to do both.”

When Maggie walked to the office door, Zach reached around to open it. His arm grazed hers. An electrical jolt streaked through her. It took all her willpower not to jump back from his touch, not to show him that he could make her react to his very nearness. She sent him a shaky smile as she stepped into the corridor. He returned it with a mind-shattering one that made her legs wobble.

While she strode next to him toward the parking lot, she tried to steel herself against the charm that seemed to come to him so effortlessly today. She reminded herself that he wanted something from her, so of course he would turn it on. It could probably be turned off just as easily. She recalled the evening before. Right now he fit into the civilized environment around him, but she strongly suspected he was more at home in the jungle, with its raw primitiveness. The article she had read had recounted the story of him being lost in the Amazon for weeks, and his near death. His life had been saved by a group of Indians who shunned outsiders, and yet had taken him into their tribe.

“You can follow me, or I can drive and bring you back later. I have to come back anyway to do some work tonight.” Zach paused at her car.

“Your hours are as bad as a medical doctor’s.”

“At the end of the term, I’m mounting an expedition into the jungle, so there’s work to be done. I do it when I can. I have four weeks to get everything done.”

“And find your grandfather’s killer, too?”

His look sharpened. “And yours. I’ll make the time if I have to. I owe my grandfather a lot.”

As she did hers. The thought emphasized a bond between them she wished she could deny. They each loved their grandfathers. “I’ll ride with you. It’ll give us more time to talk.”

Zach indicated his red sports car a few spaces away. “Bought and paid for by me.”

Heat singed her cheeks.

“Another one of my indulgences,” he explained. “I love to feel power beneath me, and I have a fondness for old cars.”

“I guess it beats riding donkeys or walking.” She followed him to his classic 1968 Corvette.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like the jungle. There’s something about it that keeps drawing me back.”

That fit him. Zach Collier had a way of stripping away civilization to its primeval core. His lean power, leashed at the moment, made her wary. He was a dangerous man on more than one level, different from anyone she had met. She knew his partner had tried to kill him, and he had survived.

Seated in his car, Maggie let the silence linger between them as he weaved his way through traffic. She didn’t look at him, but instead concentrated on the view to her side. Although she’d said they could talk on the way to the restaurant, she was tired, plain and simple. That was the only reason this man was getting to her. After spending part of the morning researching him on the Internet, she was beginning to wonder if there was anything he couldn’t do. He had several doctorates and knew many languages. His interests were varied—from finding a new drug in the wilds of the rain forest to spending time with an isolated tribe of Indians. He had come into her grandfather’s house yesterday, stared down the barrel of a rifle and not flinched.

She leaned back, letting the smooth ride lure her into a semiconscious state. If she could just catch up on her sleep, she was sure she would be her old self again—confident, in control, her thoughts neat and organized, not centered on the man next to her.

When Zach pulled into a parking lot at a Mexican restaurant in the foothills of Albuquerque, she didn’t want to get out. That meant she would have to listen to him tell her why he thought her grandfather had been murdered. Suddenly the thought of someone deliberately causing Gramps’s riding accident knotted her stomach. It also meant, if Zach was right, that she was in danger from some unknown source because she had the diary, and she suspected that someone knew it. Was that the person who’d followed her last night? In the back of her mind, she’d hoped it had been Zach.

“After you left last night, what did you do?” She climbed from the Corvette.

The mention of the evening before caused his eyes to become diamond hard. “Went home to nurse my wounded pride. I never thought I would have such a difficult time convincing someone she may be in danger. Of course, I’ve never been arrested before, either.”

Maggie paused at the entrance into the restaurant. “You didn’t follow me into Santa Fe?” She was ninety percent sure of the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

“No, I live here.” When she started to open the door, he placed a hand on her arm and swung her around to face him. “Why? Did something happen after I left?”

The feel of his fingers on her momentarily captivated her attention.

“Maggie, what happened?”

“I was followed into town.”

“That must mean the person doesn’t have the diary, then.”

“It’s not at my grandfather’s house.” She couldn’t tell him everything just yet. She couldn’t shake off the years of hating the name Collier overnight. She wasn’t even sure if it would ever be possible to completely trust someone with that last name, however irrational that might sound. By his own admission Zach had been close to Red Collier, and that man would have given anything to have the map and the diary, had tried years ago to be the sole owner of both. Was Zach fulfilling a deathbed wish to get the monk’s journal and solve the mystery of the lost Aztecs and their codices? Her thoughts chilled her. She normally wasn’t a person who mistrusted and questioned every move someone made, but after the day before, she would be doing that more. Her life might very well depend on it.

“If they have the diary, then why follow you?” Zach asked after they had been seated and the waitress had taken their orders.

“That’s the first question we can ask them when we find them.” She hoped her flippant answer would keep him from probing any deeper, because she couldn’t out-and-out lie to him. She’d never been a good actress.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his forehead furrowed. “This whole business doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Our grandfathers have had the map and diary for years. Why the interest in them now?”

“Exactly. I’m still not totally convinced anything is going on.”

“What will it take to convince you?”

“You say you weren’t the one who followed me, but—”

He bent forward, his eyes pinpoints, anger slashing his face. “Do you have to get killed to believe me? Something is going on, and the person behind it won’t stop until he gets what he wants. As to why now, I’m not sure. It wasn’t common knowledge that our grandfathers had the map and diary. Maybe one of them talked.”

“In recent years Gramps had decided the rumors he had heard years ago were just that, rumors based on legend, not facts. He didn’t think the diary was important to anyone but him. He retrieved all the information he needed for his anthropological study of the Aztec Indians at the time of the Spanish conquest, but he never discussed the diary with anyone but me and my father. I don’t even think my mother knew about it.” She folded her arms and glared across the table at him. “Gramps didn’t say anything.”

Zach averted his gaze for a few seconds. “I can’t say that about my granddad. He had a stroke a couple of months ago, and he would sometimes ramble on about the past. He could have said something. But most people probably wouldn’t have realized what he was talking about.”

“But maybe one did?”

He nodded.

“Do you know who visited him?”

“Not for sure. A lot of his old colleagues from the college came to see him, but the rehabilitation center didn’t keep a list of visitors. I asked.”

She was well aware that Red Collier had gone on to garner quite a reputation in the field of archaeology, and had taught at the same college as Zach. “Too bad. We could have started with that.”

“We can try interviewing members of the staff and see if anyone remembers anything.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“Whoever is after this legend won’t be giving it to any museum. It has to be a private collector.” Anger cut deep into his features. “I can’t tolerate knowledge lost for private gains.”

She thought of what her grandfather had hoped to glean from the information written on the deerskins about the lost sect of Aztecs, if indeed, they had fled to the Southwest ahead of the Spanish conquerors. “I know one of your areas of expertise is anthropology, like my grandfather. It could sure enhance your reputation if you discovered the codices and evidence of the lost Aztec tribe who tried to preserve part of their culture from the Spanish conquistadors.”

The harsh glint in Zach’s eyes stabbed her. “The reason you can say that, Dr. Somers, is because you don’t know me at all. Was that comment made because I’m a Collier? Do you judge a man without getting to know him?” The taut lines of his body transmitted his feelings more than his quiet words, spoken with a lethal edge.

Her gaze fixed upon the nerve that twitched in the hardened line of his jaw, and she regretted her words. She moistened her dry lips. “No, not usually.”

“The most important reason I want to find the codices is that it was Granddad’s lifelong dream. He believed they existed to the day he died. He wanted to prove once and for all a group of Aztecs had lived in the Southwest, separated from the ones near Mexico City. He believed the legend that they had taken some of the Aztec treasures with them for safekeeping.” He brought his glass of water to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “It may have been wishful thinking on my grandfather’s part, because he hated to admit that something of such historical significance would have been destroyed by the Spanish.”

The intense way he was looking at her made her realize how lacking she was in the ways of men and women. Except for her one relationship in college with BradWent-worth, she hadn’t dated much, having devoted her life to her studies and becoming a doctor. Now that she was established in a thriving practice, she still didn’t date much.

She breathed in sharply and caught the scent of him, enticingly masculine—clean, fresh, like the desert at night. When his regard dropped to the pulse beat at her throat, his look entranced her. Then slowly his gaze reconnected with hers, and the earlier bond she had experienced grew.

For a long moment she couldn’t think clearly. Then, from a willpower she was beginning to realize was lacking more and more around him, she glanced away. She had to focus on what was important: the map and diary that could lead to the Aztec codices. “Was the map stolen?” she asked finally.

“Yes.”

The anxiety in the air between them settled around her shoulders heavily, weighing her down as though it were an iron cloak. “Then what’s the use? If the legend is right, you have to have both the map and the diary to find the location of the codices and any other Aztec treasure there may be.”

He straightened, alert. “Because I have a copy of the map. Do you have a copy of the diary?”

“No, and even if I did, why should I trust you?” Red Collier had betrayed Gramps, taking the map and his true love, Willow-in-the-Wind, for his wife. If the man had been able to steal the journal from her grandfather, he would have done that, too. She had grown up knowing every minute detail of the feud between the two men, which had started over a woman they’d both loved and a treasure they had both wanted to find, first as partners, later as enemies.

“Because I don’t want you to end up like your grandfather—dead.”

His directness sizzled the air. Did he know she had the diary?

Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their dinners, and the moment shattered like a rock hitting a window. Maggie picked up her fork and started to eat. “I worked through lunch, fitting some afternoon patients in so I could come see you. I didn’t eat anything. I’m starved, and this looks delicious.”

“I see you’re still not totally convinced someone killed your grandfather.”

“No. As you said earlier, it’s just a theory. No real proof.”

“A scientist to the end. I can appreciate that. I hope, however, that that end isn’t a permanent one.”

She tightened her hold on her fork. “If you’re trying to frighten me, you’re doing a nice job.”

“Good. Someone needs to scare some sense into you.”

“Then go to the police with your theory. Let them figure it out. It’s what they’re supposed to do.”

“A job that won’t mean much to them. This is very personal to me. Besides, as you just pointed out, I don’t have any concrete proof something has happened.”

She gestured with her fork. “Exactly. In my profession, I deal with facts, Dr. Collier, as you’re supposed to in yours.”

He took a bite of his quesadilla. “It’s facts you want? Number one, both of our grandfathers died weeks apart, mine supposedly from natural causes, yours from an accident. There are ways to stop a person’s heart that appear natural. And there are ways to make something seem like an accident when it isn’t. Number two, both of their houses, and Granddad’s room at the home, were trashed right after their deaths. Number three, you were followed by someone last night. Number four, our grandfathers have a past that connects them to an archaeological treasure that has never been found, and could be worth millions.” Intensity vibrated in his voice as his eyes bored into her.

Maggie felt as though they were the only two people in the whole restaurant, and everything was wiped from her view but him. She was desperate not to believe him, because if what he said was true then her life would change drastically from this moment forward. The unknown lurked before her, prodding her fear to the foreground. She’d battled desperately to remain in control of her life, and that control was slipping away from her.

“Those facts can be explained. Accidents and natural deaths happen all the time. People are robbed all the time. And their connection is almost sixty years old.”

He leaned forward. “What about the person who followed you last night? A weirdo out for his jollies?”

“That’s a possibility.”

Zach shook his head. “You’re the most stubborn woman I know. Fine. I tried to warn you of the danger you’re in, but it’s obvious you’re in denial. I’ll work on this without your help.”

He had tried to understand her position, but he was having a hard time doing it when the facts seemed so obvious. But he couldn’t turn his back on her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her, which was why he had returned to the ranch the night before even though he had known it wasn’t a wise thing to do.

While Maggie played with her food, not really eating any of her cheese enchiladas, he remembered their confrontation the day before. He should be angry, but that emotion had died quickly. Instead, all he could think about was her long auburn hair, released from its restraints, framing her face in wild disarray while she stood on her grandfather’s porch, aiming a shotgun at him. Or her green eyes that were the color of dew-kissed grass. Or her petite frame, just over five feet, that his dwarfed. She was one dynamite-looking woman with one dynamite temper to match.

Taking a bite of his food without really tasting it, he came to a decision. He would give her a few days and then approach her again. She needed time to digest that her grandfather had died, let alone that he might have been murdered. Zach would give her as much time as he could allow, which wasn’t much, then he would make her see the truth: her life was at stake.

The waitress approached the table. “Would you like dessert?”

“I wouldn’t have room for another bite.” Maggie smiled at the woman. “The dinner was wonderful.”

Her smile was beautiful, Zach thought. It encompassed her whole face, making her eyes shine as if the person receiving it were the only important one around.

Great! That was all he needed to do. Become attracted to a woman who was off-limits. He agreed with her. A Collier and a Somers together would make both their grandfathers turn over in their graves.

Zach tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll take you back to your car.”

After paying, he rose and allowed Maggie to walk ahead. He foresaw another restless night, trying to get her out of his mind. It didn’t sit well with him that she wouldn’t accept his help. If anything happened to her, he would have a hard time not blaming himself.

Outside, the night air, laced with spring, wrapped him in warmth. Before climbing into his car, Zach paused to view the lights of Albuquerque below him. He loved this part of the country, but it had taken his partner’s betrayal to get him to move here from Dallas. As a child he used to come every summer to see his grandparents, and he would treasure those memories forever. His heart twisted with the thought that he would never see his grandfather again. Anger pushed through the pain and stiffened his resolve to get to the bottom of his granddad’s murder. He might not have proof, but he’d learned to listen to his instincts long ago.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Her voice, with a husky timbre, penetrated his thoughts. “Yes, I have a home not too far from here. I love this view. Sometimes I just wish I had more time to appreciate it. I spend more time at the college than my house.”

“That sounds like me. Work can have a way of consuming a person’s life.”

Over the top of his car, he looked at her. “Do you enjoy your work as a doctor?” He knew a lot about her, having done some research before approaching her with his theory.

She nodded. “And you?”

“Yes.”

As he slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine, Maggie settled into her seat. He pulled out of the parking space, the silence between them comfortable, which surprised him after their tense dinner. As he negotiated the first set of curves on the mountain road, the Corvette picked up speed. He pressed his foot on the brake. Nothing. He pumped the brake again. Still nothing.

The car’s speed increased. He took the next curve too fast, slamming Maggie against her door. The passenger side scraped the guardrail—the only thing that stood in the way of them and the bottom of the mountain.

Father, I’m in Your hands, he prayed silently.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t need to see the panic on Maggie’s face. He could hear it in her voice. Another curve loomed ahead. “Brace yourself. We’re in for a rough ride.”

## FOUR

Maggie latched on to the door handle, her grip so tight that her hand ached. Transfixed, she watched as Zach maneuvered the car around another curve. Each time he put his foot on the brake, nothing happened. Instead, the Corvette kept going faster.

“Do you have your seat belt on?” His voice held a razor-sharp tension.

Her hand trembled as she checked to make sure. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to try and slow us down as much as possible. If my memory serves me right, there’s a field near the bottom that’s pretty flat, right off the side of the road. Even if we make it there, Maggie, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

She tensed. The sound of metal grinding against metal thundered in her ears. Every muscle locked into place as the rugged terrain along the side of the road jarred her. Their speed decelerated when they hit a patch of level road, but not enough. Then the asphalt descended again down the side of the mountain.

A hundred things flew through her mind—regrets, wishes. There was so much she hadn’t done yet. She didn’t have anyone who really cared if she died here at the bottom of one of the steep ravines. The loss of her grandfather deluged her all over again.

Why, Lord? What are You doing?

Maggie saw the field Zach had mentioned up ahead. She held her breath as the car barreled off the road and over the rutted ground. Even with her grip on the door handle and her other hand on the console, she was tossed about. Her knee hit the dashboard. Her head snapped back. Pain raced up her leg and down her spine as the car slowed its speed, then came to an abrupt halt in a shallow ditch, throwing Maggie forward. Her seat belt cut across her chest and stole her breath.

Maggie straightened and pried her hand loose from the handle. Her heartbeat raced, and her breath came out in pants. Safe. Alive.

A moan pervaded the pounding in her ears, and she angled around to see if Zach was all right. Slowly he lifted his head from the steering wheel as he reached up to touch his forehead.

The growing darkness prevented her from seeing him well. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer.

She had been trained not to panic in an emergency, but in the back of her mind she realized how close they had come to dying. She wouldn’t let herself think about that now. There would be time later.

Ignoring the part of herself that would like to fall apart, she shoved her door open a few inches until the light came on. Then she turned to Zach to see how serious his injuries were. Blood trickled down his cheek as he stared at a point beyond the car.

“Zach,” she whispered, and gently touched his chin to bring his face around for her inspection.

He blinked, then finally focused his attention on her as she probed the gash above his right eye. Not too deep. She tried to maintain her professional facade, but their brush with death had left her vulnerable, stripped of her usual control. Her fingers on his forehead quivered.

“Will I live, Doc?” A huskiness edged his voice.

“Afraid so.” She dropped her hand away from him. The trembling spread to encompass her whole body. “I don’t even think this will require stitches. You should go to the hospital, though, in case you have a concussion.”

“No. I’ll be fine.” He reached back and pulled a T-shirt from a gym bag and mopped the blood from his face. “Believe me, I’ve suffered a lot worse than a bump on my forehead.”

The finality in his voice erased all arguments from Maggie’s lips. “Will you at least let me check you out—” she glanced about “—in better conditions?”

“Sure, later.” He tossed the bloodied shirt into the backseat. “But first, I’d like to get out of here.”

“Well, just in case you haven’t noticed, your car isn’t going anywhere.”

Zach withdrew his cell from his pocket and punched in a series of numbers. “Ray, Zach here. Can you pick me and a friend up? We’ve been in an accident.”

Maggie half listened as Zach gave his friend directions to where they were. Only for a few seconds had she glimpsed any vulnerability in him. He had just saved their lives with some spectacular driving, and now he was calmly taking charge, getting them a ride, calling a tow truck to pick up his car, as if brake failure were an everyday occurrence for him. Did anything get to this man? She watched him as he made his last call to the police. He was very much in control of his emotions, while she shivered from a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.

If he ever loved someone, he would demand all of her because he didn’t invest himself easily. Whoa, where in the world had that observation come from? She was more shook up than she originally thought if she was putting Zach and love together in the same sentence.

Maggie ignored his words, but tuned in to the sound of his voice. It was rough and warm, slightly gritty, with an indisputable maleness to it that reflected the man. It was the reassuring voice of a person who was used to being in command, to making difficult decisions, possibly even involving dangerous matters. Suddenly a calmness descended on Maggie as though some of his strength had invaded her, soothing her.

“C’mon. Let’s wait near the road for Ray.” Zach tried his door, but it wouldn’t budge. He threw her a grin. “I guess I’ll use yours.”

She pushed on hers, but it didn’t move more than the few inches it was already open. “I think we’re stuck.”

“Here, let me see.” He reached across her body to shove at the door.

His clean, fresh scent overwhelmed her as he pressed against her. Her pulse reacted, racing through her as fast as they had driven down the mountain. His face, inches from hers, held her enthralled. She saw the tiny laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the gleam that glittered in the gray depths. Her throat went dry.

An eternity later, the door gave way, and he twisted around so he looked directly at her. A connection, forged from a shared near-death experience, mesmerized her, binding them together. That realization should have panicked her, but for a few minutes it didn’t. It felt right—a Somers linked with a Collier.

Zach lifted his hand and grazed a finger down her cheek. He started to say something, but a car rounded the curve. A pair of headlights illuminated the ditch in front of them, and sent Zach back to his side of the car. While the vehicle passed them on the road, he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

She resisted the urge to touch where his finger had. But his effect on her staggered her. A Collier was a taker, not a giver. Those were words she had heard many times from Gramps. She needed to remember them.

Without a word, Maggie stood on shaky legs, clasping the door to steady herself while Zach crawled over the seat and climbed out. He, too, grasped the car, his body so near that the hairs on her arm tingled.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, needing to keep herself focused on being a doctor rather than a woman.

“I told you, I’m fine.” He released his grip. “When Ray comes, I think we should go to my place.” Before she could protest, he put his finger over her lips. “I don’t think this was an accident. That’s why I called the police. I want your car checked tomorrow before you drive it back to Santa Fe.”

Although she tried to ignore the feel of his touch against her mouth, it took her a long moment to gather her thoughts enough to say, “I can’t. I have patients to see first thing in the morning.”

Zach didn’t say anything. For the next fifteen minutes he went over the details of the accident with a police officer who had arrived and parked at the side of the road. The policeman had a few questions for Maggie, which she answered.

She held her arms close to her chest, but still the cold seeped into her bones. In the middle of the conversation, Zach walked to his trunk and withdrew a jacket. He placed it over Maggie’s shoulders, rubbing her arms up and down for a long moment. She wanted to lean back into his strength, to wipe the last hour from her mind, but the officer still had questions for them.

By the time Ray Parker pulled up, followed by the tow truck, Maggie was freezing even with the jacket on. Her teeth chattered, her body quaked. Finished with the police, Zach dealt quickly with the driver of the tow truck, then marshaled Maggie into his friend’s Ford Ranger. Zach introduced her to Ray, an associate at the college. She smiled her greeting, still too upset to say more than what was necessary.

In the front seat, Zach drew her against him, his arm about her. His warmth slowly chased the cold away the farther from the accident they went.

“What happened back there?” Ray slanted a glance at Zach.

“I’m not sure, other than the brakes failed at a crucial time.”

“You don’t think this has anything to do with Red’s death, do you?”

“Yes.”

That one word brought back all the distressing thoughts that Maggie had had over the past twenty-four hours. Robbery. Attempted murder. Murder. She wasn’t equipped to deal with those kinds of things. She was a healer. Caught between denial and seeking answers, she didn’t know what to do next. She needed time to think, to figure out how best to proceed.

Gramps murdered? Over the diary? Why now?

As Ray pulled up in front of what she assumed was Zach’s house, her head felt as though a jackhammer pounded against her skull. Her muscles ached, especially her neck, as if she had climbed the stairs to a fifty-story building. And the second Zach disengaged himself from her, the cold burrowed deeper into her bones. That reaction scared her. His presence was taking over her life. She didn’t give up control easily, if ever, to another human being. Even with the Lord she’d struggled with that.

“Come in, Ray. I need a favor.” Zach slipped from the cab. He offered Maggie his hand. For a long second she stared at it, almost afraid of what it would symbolize if she put hers in his. She’d always stood on her own two feet and not depended on another person, not even Gramps. She couldn’t allow herself to do it now, because the situation was complicated, possibly dangerous and definitely unusual.

Resisting his assistance, she climbed from the truck and pulled the jacket about her to ward off the cold. Zach stared at her for a moment, his arm dropping to his side.

As she trudged up the walk toward Zach’s adobe-style house, disquiet crackled in the air. Her knee throbbed where she’d hit the dashboard. Pain radiated from her neck, across her shoulders and down her back.

Inside, Zach flipped on a switch and light flooded his large, open living room, with its high ceiling. Masculine touches stamped the place, with Indian artifacts on the walls and tables. More like a museum, she thought as she surveyed the area before her. Any other time she would have appreciated his beautiful Indian art—collected from around the world, not just the United States—but at the moment the only thing she wanted to do was sleep for a week and forget what had happened.

Zach waved her toward a brown suede couch. “Sit. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Soda? Tea?”

“No, I’m afraid I’d never go to sleep if I had any caffeine.” She wasn’t even sure she could fall asleep if she didn’t have it. But she knew if she didn’t sleep soon she wouldn’t be able to function for long, let alone figure out what was going on.

“Ray, anything to drink?”

Zach’s friend shook his head.

Zach took the chair across from Maggie while Ray sat at the other end of the sofa. Silence ruled for a few minutes. Maggie laced her fingers to keep them from quivering. As a doctor, she’d dealt with emergencies before, but they had always involved others. This one she was very much in the middle of. Memories of a time when she was thirteen taunted her. She pushed away thoughts of the past. She couldn’t go there.

“You’re safe here.” A hardness entered Zach’s gaze as it found hers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Safe? I’m not sure what that word means anymore.” But his declaration had for a moment alleviated what panic and fear still resided in her.

“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?”

“I have a friend I can call. Don’t worry about me.” I’ll do that enough for the both of us. “She lives down the street from me.”

Zach turned his attention to Ray. “May I borrow your truck to take Maggie back to Santa Fe?”

“Sure. You can just drop me off at home. It’s on the way.”

“We were lucky tonight.” Although Zach’s comment was directed at his friend, his gaze fastened on Maggie.

Ray frowned. “This is getting serious. Have you talked to the police?”

“We did tonight, but there isn’t much to go on. We won’t know why the brakes failed until tomorrow, when a mechanic looks at them. But I don’t need a mechanic to tell me they were tampered with.” His hard tone underscored each word of his last sentence.

“You aren’t thinking of going after these guys yourself, are you?” Ray sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You have a better suggestion?”

“Yes. Let the police do their job. Stay out of it.”

“I would, but someone is after the codices, and the police don’t have the time to look for whoever it is.”

“And you do? What about the expedition you’re planning for next month when the semester is over? We have the backers coming into town in a few days. They want to meet with you. There’s still a lot we need to do. Besides, you’ve got classes to teach.”

“This is important. I’ll make the time. You could always cover for me if the need arose. And I won’t miss the reception for the expedition backers.”

“Yes, but—” Ray snapped his mouth closed. “Forget it. I know that look. You aren’t going to give up until you learn the truth.”

“No, I’m not. Granddad is dead because of the codices. They are the key to what’s going on.”

The steel determination in Zach’s voice sent a tremor down Maggie’s spine. This man across from her was very capable of taking care of himself—and her, if she let him. She hoped they were on the same side, that he didn’t have a secret agenda concerning the Aztec codices and treasure. It was even possible there were three sides to this—Zach’s, hers and someone else’s.

“The expedition to the Amazon is important. Don’t forget that. I’ll do what I can to help, but you’re still the one heading it. The backers are funding it because of that.” Ray rose. “I think I do want something to drink.” When Zach made a move toward the kitchen, his friend said, “Sit. Rest. I know my way around. I’ll get it.”

When his associate left them alone, Maggie said, “He knows about the codices. Who else have you told?”

“He was with me when I discovered the break-in at my grandfather’s. I never told him about the diary.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Nor the fact I have a copy of the map.”

“Before you take me home, let me look at your head.” She needed to put space between them, but the doctor in her wouldn’t let her not offer to check out his cut.

“I’m fine.” Zach waved her off and started to stand.

“I seem to remember you telling me you’d let me look at you later. Well, for your information, later is here. Now.”

Coming to his feet, Zach towered over her. His gaze trapped hers. She found herself rising and standing so close to him that his scent surrounded her. Her heartbeat surged.

“Are you all right? I noticed you limping a little,” he said.

His tender look trekked down to her parched throat. She swallowed several times before answering, “I’m fine, and this little diversion won’t change my mind. I want to check you out before we leave.” She forced a lightness into her voice, even though the situation between them was quickly becoming serious, the connection they shared strengthening.

He smiled. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. I’ve never been fond of going to the doctor.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she said with a laugh. “Doesn’t change my mind. Do you have a first-aid kit?”

“Yes, I’ll get it.”

Light-headed, Maggie lowered herself onto the couch. Until he’d left the room, she hadn’t realized she hadn’t taken a decent breath since they had faced each other. Inhaling deeply now, she scanned the living room, trying to get a sense of the man who had taken over her life so effectively in the past day.

The colors of the room were the tan of the desert and the green of the barrel cactus. Beneath her feet was a beautifully woven Navajo Indian rug, worth a small fortune. The room was neat and orderly, much like her house except hers had a lived-in look while his didn’t. She got the impression he was rarely home. Again she thought of a museum as her regard took in his possessions.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” Zach sat next to her and gave her the first-aid kit. “Did I mention I hate going to the doctor?”

“Yes. Too bad.”

She managed to block from her mind to whom she attended as she checked his gash, cleaned it then placed a bandage over it. If she hadn’t been able to block him from her mind, she was sure she would have been in trouble. Zach Collier was just too much for her to handle at this time in her life. She had everything mapped out for herself. Her career and new practice were what was most important at the moment. She had spent years becoming a doctor, with she and her grandfather both making sacrifices to pay for medical school. Maybe in a few years, when she was more established, she could think about something other than being a doctor. Who was she kidding? She knew the real reason she didn’t focus on her personal life, and it had nothing to do with her profession. How long was she going to let what had happened between her and Brad Wentworth dictate what she did with her life?

“Well, what’s the verdict, Doc?”

“Oh, I’d say at least another fifty thousand miles.” She shoved thoughts of Brad back into the far reaches of her mind.

“That’s comforting, since this bod may get a lot of wear and tear in the near future.”

“You really are going to pursue this?” She looked him directly in the eye.

“Yes.” All the tenderness in his expression vanished, and a ruthless determination appeared in its place. “To the end, Maggie. I won’t let these people get away with what they did to our grandfathers.”

She wanted to believe him in that moment—almost did. Except, for over thirty years she had been raised to hate, and especially never to trust, anyone with the last name Collier. There was a small part of her that still doubted him even after the brake failure. She felt that if she believed him she was betraying Gramps. “How will you pursue it, Zach?”

Raking his hand through his hair, he rose to prowl the room. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll find the clue in the map, after all.”

“But you said your grandfather studied it for years and could never find the answer.”

“I know. He thought he could break the code. If those people hadn’t gotten the diary, we might be able to figure out the mystery of the codices.”

She busied herself putting the bandages and medicine back into the first-aid kit, while the scent of coffee drifted toward her. Something was going on. She didn’t doubt that anymore. But she had no idea who was behind it. It could still be Zach. The one thing she did know was that she wasn’t equipped to solve the mystery of the codices by herself. If anything was going to be done, it would have to be done as a team.

A team. The words vibrated in her mind, conjuring up images of she and Zach working closely together, his thoughts hers, his actions a perfect mirror of hers. A warmth suffused her and made her hands quiver as she closed the lid on the kit and set it on the end table.

I hope I’m not making a big mistake. She inhaled a deep breath to fortify herself and said, “Zach, I have something to tell you.”

He stopped pacing and faced her. Although his expression became unreadable, his body grew taut.

“I have the diary,” she whispered. She clutched the arm of the couch and waited for his wrath.

He closed the space between them, his gaze straying toward the kitchen. “Where?” The deadly quiet of his voice unnerved her more than if he had shouted the question.

“My grandfather gave it to me on my thirtieth birthday. I used to keep it in my armoire.”

“Used to?”

She hated the way he stared at her with no emotion in his features, in his voice. “This afternoon, before I came to Albuquerque, I put it in a safety-deposit box.”

He turned toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking you home. There isn’t anything more we can do tonight.”

“What about the diary? I thought you wanted it.”

He whipped around to confront her, his expression no longer blank but full of fury, all directed at her. “What do you suggest I do? Break into the bank to get it?”

“No.”

He walked back to her. “Do you want me to applaud you for being such a good liar? I actually believed they had the journal.”

The full force of his rage bombarded her—although his voice had never risen above a whisper—as he came to a halt in front of her. She released her grip on the arm of the couch and craned her neck upward until their gazes clashed. “I didn’t lie,” she said. “The diary wasn’t at my grandfather’s.”

“Oh, I see. You like to play word games.” He invaded her space completely, hovering over her. “What other games do you like to play?”